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[Page 283]

WORLD ORDER

NOVEMBER 1938

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[Page 284]

CONTENTS OF THIS ISSUE

NOVEMBER 1938 VOLUME 4 NUMBER 8

CONSTRUCTIVE THINKING • EDITORIAL ................ 285

THE FUNDAMENTAL HUMAN TOOL • MARY HULL ........... 287

THE OLD FRAME HOUSE • KENNETH CHRISTIAN .......... 296

DAYBREAK, Poem • VIRGINIA CRAIG HOWES ............ 298

THE WELL OF HAPPINESS, I • A. G. B. .............. 299

THE POSSIBILITY OF PROGRESS • W. RUSSELL TYLOR ... 305

ISLAM, II • ALI-KULI KHAN ........................ 310

ALTRUISM • STANWOOD COBB ......................... 318

LIGHTHOUSE, Poem • EVERETT TABOR GAMAGE .......... 324

VIEWING THE WORLD AS AN ORGANISM

Change of address should be reported one month in advance.

WORLD ORDER is published monthly in New York, N. Y., by the Publishing Committee of the National Spiritual Assembly of the Bahá’ís of the United States and Canada. EDITORS: Stanwood Cobb and Horace Holley. CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: Alice Simmons Cox, Genevieve L. Coy, G. A. Shook, Dale S. Cole, Bertha Hyde Kirkpatrick, Marzieh Carpenter, Hasan M. Balyusi, Shirin Fozdar, Inez Greeven. BUSINESS MANAGER: C. R. Wood. PUBLICATION OFFICE: 135 East 50th Street, New York, N. Y. EDITORIAL OFFICE: 119 Waverly Place, New York, N. Y.

SUBSCRIPTIONS: $2.00 per year, $1.75 to Public Libraries. Rate to addresses outside the United States, $2.25, foreign Library rate, $2.00, Single copies, 20 cents. Checks and money orders should be made payable to World Order Magazine, 135 East 50th Street, New York, N. Y. Entered as second class matter, May 1, 1935, at the post office at New York, N. Y., under the Act of March 3, 1879. Contents copyrighted 1938 by BAHA’I PUBLISHING COMMITTEE. Title Registered at U.S. Patent Office.

November 1938, Volume 4, Number 8

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WORLD ORDER

November 1938 Volume 4 No. 8

CONSTRUCTIVE THINKING

IT is difficult to read the newspapers today without getting involved psychologically in the spiritually disintegrating effect of current affairs. On every hand we are met with wars, or rumors of wars, hatreds and rivalries between nations, and at the best, conditions everywhere so unsettled that none know what the morrow will bring forth.

To live too much in this lurid phantasmagoria is to lose the calm and serenity of that spiritual assurance which alone can make life worth living today. “His heart is calm whose mind is staid on Me,” said the Psalmist. Today it is more true than in most historic periods that spiritual security is the only kind of security available and that only an abiding God-consciousness can ensure serenity in the midst of chaotic world conditions.

Too much mental and emotional dwelling upon the turmoils and confusions and horrors of current history, as brought us by the press, by magazines and by radio, cannot but impair if not destroy spiritual calm. We must learn to live above the consciousness of turmoil, where cosmic peace inhabits secret places of the heart.

Even worse than losing our peace of mind and soul is the danger of being swept into the emotional maelstrom of racial and national embitteredness in which the vast majority of the people of the world are at present engulfed. Bahá’ís must of all people avoid this if they are to keep a clear vision of the noble and enduring goals of the new World Order of Bahá’u’lláh.

‘ABDU’L-BAHÁ once said, when asked what was his politics— “Our politics is that of the Kingdom.” Bahá’ís in order to characterize themselves with the qualities of universal love, sympathy and justice which are needed to establish the goals of a new World Order, must refrain from being psychologically warped into the currents of negative internationalism which are sweeping the peoples of the world with spiritual and material destruction. This is why Shoghi Effendi urgently advises that in these days when sinister, uncontrollable forces are deepening the [Page 286] cleavage sundering peoples, nations, creeds and classes, we must abstain from taking sides or assigning blame, however indirectly, in the recurring political crises now agitating and ultimately engulfing human society.

It is a spiritual relief to turn from these wearing and enervating tragedies of world-wide hatreds and conflicts and refresh the soul with contemplations of more permanent realities which are reflected in the life of humanity from the archetypal realm. I refer particularly to those splendid and enduring institutions which Bahá’u’lláh’s World Order shall establish for mankind—world peace, world brotherhood, and an age of abundance based on an intelligent and equitable development of our planetary resources in the spirit of cooperation rather than in the spirit of brute competition.

Living emotionally too closely to the chaotic events now rending human society cannot fail to exert a negative and disintegrating effect upon our spiritual consciousness. It is not imperfection which we should dwell upon in our meditation, but Perfection. We can accomplish nothing for the world by the study of the materialistic conditions now prevailing. But we can accomplish miracles for the world if we study the divine truths proclaimed by Bahá’u’lláh for the regeneration of humanity.

“Pay no attention to things material but reach after the Spirit,” says ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. “Fix your eyes on the Sun of Truth for His light floods the earth. Let the Sun give you of His strength, then the clouds of prejudice will not hide His light from your eyes. . . . May the world be for you no obstacle hiding the Sun of Truth from your sight.”

INTELLECTUAL immersion in the temporal exigencies of a decadent human society endangers the radiance of the Spirit which should shine forth from us, individually and collectively, for illumination and perfecting of the world.

The contagion of the fever that runs high in the veins of the body-politic cannot but impair the health and power of faith in us. A positive faith and a spiritual vision of the future splendid goals of humanity— these are the constructive forces which Bahá’ís are privileged to deploy for the improvement of the world. We need to keep unimpaired our connection with Reality, in order that the divine grace may flow through us to bless a sad and weary world.

“Radiate the light of the love of God to such an extent as to be able to remove entirely the gloom and darkness of hatred, bigotry and enmity from among humanity. . . . Perchance you may be assisted in hoisting the standard of peace and pitching the tabernacle of oneness and solidarity of the world of humanity—so that this temporal life may ultimate in the Life Everlasting and this darkness of ignorance which has pervaded the whole world may be converted into the illumination of guidance.”

S.C.

[Page 287]

THE FUNDAMENTAL HUMAN TOOL

MARY HULL

“THE strange disparity between the sciences of inert matter and those of life,” a subject discussed at length by Alexis Carrell in “Man Unknown,” is a problem that most thoughtful people ponder earnestly. Many agree with Carrell that our perilous backwardness in the vital and social sciences “is due to our ancestor’s lack of leisure, to the complexity of the subject, and to the structure of our minds.” But the Polish mathematician, Count Alfred Korzybski, in “Science and Sanity,” published in 1933, comes to the startling conclusion that this backwardness and the dementia and pathological symptoms that characterize modern civilization grow, not out of the structure of our mind, which is unchangeable, but out of the structure of our language, which is adjustable, and which does not correspond with that of our nervous system and that of nature in general, and out of the social inheritance which is preserved and made operative by language.

Doubtless my readers feel with me that this conclusion is too sweeping, and that the madness of this “Age of Schizophrenia” is due primarily to neglect of religion, to general failure to contact appropriately that dynamic force which alone can make man and society whole. Still, on examination of Korzybski’s thesis we may concede that the structure of our language is an important contributory factor of our evil condition.

“Technically,” Korzybski declares, “we are very advanced, but the elementistic premises underlying our human relations, practically since Aristotle, have not changed at all. . . . It turns out that in the structure of our language, habits of thought, orientations, we preserve delusional, psychopathological factors. These are not in any way inevitable, as will be shown, but can easily be eliminated by special training, therapeutic in effect, and consequently of educational value.”

C. K. Ogden and I. A. Richards, in “The Meaning of Meaning,” approaching language from the aesthetic standpoint, arrive at a similar verdict, and contribute some valuable suggestions to the therapeutic training, otherwise termed “semantic discipline” recommended by Korzybski.

[Page 288] Doubtless because “Science and Sanity” and “The Meaning of Meaning” are written in technical language, they have not yet received the wide acclaim that their contents merit. Fortunately, however, one of our cleverest publicists, Stewart Chase, has read with enthusiasm these books and others touching the same subject, and having assimilated their substance and added to it from his own experience, in “The Tyranny of Words” published early in 1938, he brings to the general public a discussion so distinguished by clarity that he who runs may read and understand it, and so enlivened by trenchant flashes of wit that he who reads must needs enjoy it.

If “The Tyranny of Words” succeeds, as I ardently hope, in focussing the attention of thoughtful people on the significance of the semantic discipline, we may, in our generation, initiate a movement for the investigation and improvement of language comparable to that of the French Encyclopedists in the eighteenth century, only vastly more potent because in semantics the aim is to improve language not merely from the point of view of clearness and elegance, but also from the vital angle of the psychological reaction to words, and other symbols and events in connection with their meaning.

THE only reason we can ascribe for the neglect to investigate language from this significant standpoint is the general tendency to take for granted the fundamental elements of life. We breathe without thinking and only consider the process and the quality of the air when forced to by illness. For language is as necessary to civilized society as air is to physical existence. All of our institutions have been fashioned by and are kept in operation by means of this fundamental instrument.

If an infant of our species, bereft of all human companionship, could survive, it would not talk, it would not even think much more than a savage beast thinks; for we think in symbols and mostly in word symbols, and our thinking is enormously stimulated by social contacts. Primitive speech deals almost wholly with subjects of common action. And it is likely that language developed originally in communal activity. New activities called for new words and new objects for new names. Probably the growth of language was an important factor in the development of the human brain. Eventually language and man’s brain were sufficiently developed for the use of abstract terms. Every new philosophy brings to birth new abstractions, every new type of experience adds new words to our vocabulary. And so through countless eras language has grown in a haphazard way without check or investigation other than those of grammarians and lexicographers, the fresh rivulets continually swelling the main stream being contaminated as they mingle with it the dregs of bygone ages in the form of elementistic habits of thought and expression.

The semantic pioneers point out that in the identification of the object with its label, vestiges of primitive word magic remain in our everyday speech and that the infantile habit of uncritical personification is retained. [Page 289] “Language, as it has developed” Chase observes, “is less influenced by reflection than thought is influenced by the accepted structure of language. The barbarous primitive substances, entities, and categories have left a deep mark on the more advanced philosophies and speculations. The word is still believed to cast a spell on the thing and to have power in and of itself.”

Referring to personifications elsewhere Chase says that “man alone produces verbal monsters in his head and then projects them upon the world outside.” One of the most effective passages in “The Tyranny of Words,” unfortunately too long to quote (p. 22-26), portrays graphically the ghosts and bogies that darkly dramatize the American scene. The passage strikes us as both humorous and tragic; laughable because the substance is so patently absurd, tragic because the personifications pictured create an unreal world and a misunderstanding of our environment that makes rational adjustment impossible.

The semantic pioneers make us realize that the abuse of abstractions in the form of personifications and otherwise is a most vicious linguistic habit. In a highly developed culture we must use abstractions. But we should use them consciously, always remembering that in each instance several integral elements are abstracted, that every classification is a limitation, a focussing upon one aspect of an object or event that in its completeness has many other aspects just as valid as the one we have arbitrarily selected.

FAILURE to use abstractions consciously and critically always makes for confusion and misunderstanding. Further, where classifications have been crystalized into social stereotypes they work incalculable injury to large groups of people. Take, for example, the term “heretic” as used a few centuries ago, and the term “Jew” as used today in some areas. On the basis of a single trait, that of dissenting religious conviction in the former, and that of race in the latter term, great numbers of people, who as individuals in the various relations of life, as friends, neighbors, parents, employers, servants, etc., maintain at least as high a standard as that of their persecutors, are nevertheless regarded as Public Enemy Number One, defrauded of their civil rights, dispossessed of their property, subjected to mental and in some cases physical torture and even in many instances brutally murdered.

Evils of this type, moreover, do not cease in one generation but are perpetuated through the inbreeding of prejudices. Consider the opinion of race being formed by youths whose plastic minds are impressed by certain patriots. Of the conservative force of language, unchecked by criticism, Ogden and Richards quote F. M. Crawford as follows: “The common inherited scheme of conception which is all around us, and comes to us naturally and unobjectionably as our native air, is none the less imposed upon us and limits our intellectual movements in countless ways—all the more surely and irresistibly because, being inherent in the very language we must use to express the simplest [Page 290] meaning, it is adopted and assimilated before we can so much as begin to think.”

The semantic discipline has been devised to cure the various evils propagated by vicious linguistic habits. It has been applied successfully on a small scale in hospitals for mental patients and in schools for children. As to what it accomplishes, I quote from “The Tyranny of Words.” “A good semantic discipline gives the power to separate mental machinery from tangible events, makes us conscious of abstracting; prevents us from peopling the universe with nonexistent things. It does not dispense with poetry, fiction, fantasy, imagination, ideas, intellectual emotions. It checks us from acting as if fantasies were real events worth fighting and dying for. It checks a kind of dangerous hypnotism, abnormal reversals of nerve currents, mental states approaching insanity.”

Is it not worth while to seek to achieve these results on a wide scale by wide scale experimentation in the semantic discipline? Modern phenomenal advances in the physical sciences have been preceded step by step by marked improvement and innovations in the instruments of measurement. May we not reasonably hope that the belated social sciences may be speeded up by corresponding improvements and innovations in the linguistic instrument of communication?

EVERY great historical movement, and indeed, every splendid individual achievement results from the united action of the heart and the head. First there must be the ardent, open heart, the aspiring, receptive spirit: second, the critical open mind, searching always for correspondence with reality, not bound and blinded by preconceptions, but free to follow out the new adventure and to devise the ways and the means for carrying the vision of the heart to fulfilment.

The seers of all countries and all ages have declared with one voice that the root of evil in human life is the stressed sense of separateness and that the upward path is that of the realization of the oneness of mankind. The Bahá’í Prophets have advanced a step further in proclaiming that the time has come for the manifestation of the brotherhood of man on the material plane and for bringing world unity into actual operation. Now, by virtue of the recent unparalleled progress of science and the consequent enormous improvement in the artificial means of communication and in the expansion of international commerce, the structural foundation of the modern world is that of an organic whole. And now thoughtful people everywhere perceive what the Prophets saw long ago, that the rational and the only rational order for modern society is that of a world order.

It has always been clear that the first step toward establishing a world order, supplying the necessary motive force, is a widespread quickening of the spirit. The intellectual phase of the movement, in so far as ascertaining the general principles underlying the ultimate reorganization is concerned, is also clear. But the immediate course of action in this baffling [Page 291] age of transition is obscure. Since our preliminary efforts of a palliative type have invariably failed, would it not be wise to concentrate our energies upon measures that are truly fundamental, even though we know that their progress is bound to be slow? Our most promising course, it seems to me, in the twofold task before us is: First to improve our habits of language in order to help dispel the present impeding misunderstandings and prejudices and clear away the varied debris of our decayed order. Second, to create and launch a universal language especially designed to build the framework of the new order.

It is an axiom in Korzybski’s reasoning that a fundamentally new structure demands new symbols, new language. And history corroborates this dictum. “Thus,” Chase observes, “Newton was stumped to tell the world or even himself what he had discovered about the movement of the celestial bodies until he had perfected the differential calculus, which is an admirable language for expressing movement. Thus Gauss was forced to perfect coordinates and the integral calculus. So Lobatchevsky in 1828 invented symbols to express non-Euclidian geometry; so Einstein applied and improved the calculus of tensors—not to drive us crazy, but to meet a genuine need.”

A world order is a fundamentally new structure. It is true that twice in recorded human history a semblance of world unity existed, under the Greek and Roman Empires, respectively. But it was not a true unity, inherent in the civilization, but an artificial unity imposed by force, fashioned by the subjection of weaker peoples by a dominant power. With the exception of these intervals of artificial unity, the whole history of nations has been that of isolated groups separated more or less sharply from each other by distinctions of race, language, and customs, as well as by geographical barriers, and marked in their mutual relations by suspicion and jealousy. And now while science has dissolved geographical barriers and in lines of close and swift communication has laid the foundation for unity, the old orientations remain and the ancient spirit of separation is rampant. And this spirit and these orientations are expressed and vitalized by the native languages.

IN the world order, the foundation of which science has inadvertently formed, there must be a common medium of communication in the way of language between the different members of the world polity. But no single native language can be used for this purpose, not only because the selection of the language of any one country would arouse the separative spirit of jealousy in the other countries, but also because all of the languages that have grown out of insular cultures are ill suited for building the required international economic and political adaptations, since they are permeated with associations and connotations that are discordant with the fundamental concept of world unity.

“Once more the word (love) is suspect,” complains Aldous Huxley in “Eyeless in Gaza,” “greasy from [Page 292] being fingered by generations of Stiggenses. There ought to be some way of dry-cleaning and disinfecting words.” There is, alas, no way of laundering the dirty linen of language, but fresh-minted words can be coined for the communication of new ideas, and the new ideology of world unity can be suitably expressed in a new language unsullied by sordid use.

There are other and more generally accepted reasons for the creation of a new language. We have seen what pitfalls to understanding exist in our native languages. These pitfalls are multiplied in case of the translation of a foreign language. In translations shades of meaning are always lost because of the different contexts in different countries; and sometimes a word or phrase that has grown out of some particularly unique experience, cannot be grasped at all by other peoples unfamiliar with that experience.

Because of the obstacles to international understanding inherent in translations, and to the great waste of energy and time and money involved, the need of a universal auxiliary language has long been recognized. Consequent to this recognition there have been numerous attempts to construct an artificial language for the common use. Of these there are six, Professor Piper informs us in “Language and World Unity,” which have a considerable following.

Of the six I have examined only one, “Esperanto,” which has the largest number of adherents. Largely because of its logical form, grammatical clarity, and the absence of exceptions to rules, I find it delightfully simple. In fact it is so easy to learn that I estimate that a public school student could acquire as much knowledge of Esperanto in one month’s time as he gets of Latin in a whole school year, and painlessly at that.

However it is claimed that all of the six artificial languages listed by Professor Piper have the advantage of being easy to learn, and that each one has in addition some unique claim to superiority. The problem of testing these six claimants in grammatical construction, vocabulary, accent, and ease of learning has been solved by the International Auxiliary Language Association by inducing distinguished linguists to meet in conferences for that purpose. When these linguists are satisfied that they have selected and perfected the best artificial language possible, the I.A.L.A. will inaugurate a program for its general adoption.

IT is to be hoped that this highly important study will soon be concluded; for the “race between education and catastrophe” is fast nearing its culmination, and a universal language is absolutely necessary not only for the administration of a world order, but also for its development.

Let me show how a universal language could be employed in building up a working world order by visualizing the course of study in use in the different countries. In order to ingraft rational habits of thought and speech the work throughout the course would be associated with the semantic discipline. The work would begin in the grades, with all the textbooks [Page 293] and maps in geography, excepting local and purely national geography, in the universal language. In the same period there would be instruction in the rudiments of the grammar of the new language along with simple reading from the fables of all nations, and proverbs from the same source to be committed to memory. In High School this beginning would be followed with composition and selections for reading taken from the classics of all nations, and with the study of general history. General history, written in the universal language from a cosmopolitan standpoint, the same text being used in every country, would prove a most potent means of disabusing the student of national and racial prejudices and in giving him the orientation appropriate to a citizen of the world.

Then in case of international conferences, the participants would have, not only a common background of geography and history, but also of literature, allusions to which would be fully appreciated. Reports of conferences, both broadcast and written, would meet the same reception with listeners and readers because they also would have the same background. In short, the common use of the universal language would insure mutual understanding. Further, since the associations and connotations of the words used would be redolent of unity, the spirit of accord, essential to cooperative enterprise, would be heightened.

So far as I know, the sponsors of all the various artificial languages before the public affirm that they are not seeking to supplant the native languages, but merely to provide an auxiliary language for international use. At first, of course, the new language would be merely auxiliary. But because of its superior simplicity, clarity and facility for expansion, I believe it would be used more and more until finally in the course of several centuries it would become the language of everyday life throughout the world with the native languages relegated to the subordinate position that dead languages occupy now.

Such an outcome seems to me not only probable, but also desirable: because, in the first place, it would foster mutual understanding, and, in the second place, it would promote the acquisition and spread of knowledge. As every teacher knows, much of the difficulty the young student experiences in taking up new subjects and also in advanced courses of familiar subjects is inherent in the language used, due to confusing and complicated grammatical structure and the frequently illogical manner of word formation. These difficulties are all ironed out in case of the artificial language. It would prove, therefore, a more favorable medium for learning. Also since individuals interested in various lines of scientific research could become acquainted with new discoveries at once without having to wait as they do now several years for translations, it would speed up the spread of knowledge. Likewise for the same reasons it would be a more favorable medium of expression. And in the general expansion of spirit and release of energy that would inevitably accompany the establishment of a world order, the common [Page 294] language, rich now in associations with the emotions of fellowship and concepts of unity and the whole process of emancipation from the fear of war and of economic insecurity, would prove a suitable instrument for an outburst in literature exceeding in brilliancy and scope any inspired hitherto.

THE reader, perchance, is impatient of soaring in the stratosphere of unproven possibilities. Very well, then, let us come down to earth here and now and face the obstacles ignored so far. “Is it possible” you ask, “that you expect nations, heavily in debt, harassed by economic strife within and fear of attack without to be moved by remote and idealistic considerations? Will governments, imbued with national vanity and greed, clinging tenaciously to the principle of national sovereignty, and notwithstanding protestations to the contrary, making war an instrument, even a most important instrument of policy, promote the use of a language designed to nullify their cherished ideals and policy?”

Certainly not. However, fortunately, there are considerations of a practical nature, previously noted, which, if opportunely and tactfully presented, might easily induce governments to try out a universal auxiliary language in a small way. I refer to the avoidance of confusion and misunderstanding caused by the use of different languages in international conferences and intercourse in general, and to the saving of time, energy, and money now wasted owing to the need for translators and interpreters, and to the obvious utility of a common language in international commerce.

Let us suppose that the preliminary work accomplished under the agencies of the I.A.L.A. is completed, and a perfected international language is offered to the different governments for adoption. The chances are that one of our democratic states, say the United States, or Great Britain, would take the lead in accepting the proposition. Other democratic states would be influenced favorably. Undoubtedly some of the South American states, which manifest a most progressive spirit, would give the new language a place in their public schools. Then to conserve and advance commercial interests the other large countries would have to follow suit. As to the Oriental states, they would find it altogether to their interest to teach one simple language instead of the three main difficult ones, English, French and German.

Once let the universal auxiliary language get a foothold, because of its utility and inherent superiority, proved by experience, eventually, little by little, its use will be extended.

To conclude, too long the friends of peace and freedom and unity have wasted precious energy upon futile palliative measures, pouring new wine into old contaminated bottles. Now it is high time that we focussed our attention upon measures that are truly fundamental. In no other field is work more fundamental than in that of language. For speech is the distinctive feature of the human species; language is the basic psychophysical [Page 295] function; and it is the human tool par excellence. It is the one instrument that is absolutely necessary in the construction and operation of all of the institutions of civilization. Moreover, it is a two-edged tool: perfected, and used adeptly, it will carve out a rational new world for us; unimproved, and ill-used, we only wound ourselves with it. Failure on the part of scientists to perfect this basic, two-edged tool, and on the part of all of us to use it suitably, is one of the main reasons for the backwardness of our social institutions. When this neglect is remedied, when the instrument of communication is as rationally developed as the instruments for the transmission of sound, and when we have learned to handle it appropriately, then we may hope to forge ahead precisely in those directions where, hitherto, we have lagged behind.

Today the tendency of language is deadly conservative and productive of delusions. These evils which so effectively block progress can be counteracted in two ways. First, by introducing the semantic discipline into our schools and colleges, thereby checking the inbreeding of separative prejudices, vanquishing the “Mists men make through which to see less clear,” and in general inducing rational habits of thinking and speaking. Second, by perfecting and finally launching a universal language that is completely rational in structure and free from toxic associations, thus providing an appropriate medium for mutual understanding and for the expression and working out of the ideals of the new age.

What is immediately before us we know not. Competition in armaments grows apace. The resources and tempers of the competing nations are strained to the breaking point. At any moment we may face a head-on collision. It may be too late now to turn aside the Gadarene plunge to destruction. But even in that event whatever work we have accomplished in the field of language will not be lost. For when at last the war madness subsides, out of the dumpheap of wrecked institutions, the humbled remnant of erstwhile proud and boastful nations will have, in a perfected language, a ready tool for building a sane new structure.

Author of “Progress By Telic Guidance,” etc.

[Page 296]

THE OLD FRAME HOUSE

KENNETH CHRISTIAN

THE social order of the modern world is like an old frame house. For the last twenty years especially, we have been making the painful discovery that our house of social order is completely outmoded. We have discovered that it is ugly to look at, that it is inefficiently built for modern needs and desires, and that it is dangerous to live in.

All of us are more or less aware of this situation. And the very set-up of modern life compels each of us to take some definite line of action regarding the house of social order in which we live. The ugliness and dirtiness of our social house is seen in the crime-breeding, poverty-stricken areas in all large industrial centers. From these plague spots come most of our crime and disease. Social reformers have worked for decades to focus the attention of the public on this problem. The house of social order lacks fresh air and sunshine.

Modern society is inefficiently organized. It is sadly disproportioned. It no longer meets the needs of modern peoples any more than a house with two bedrooms is adequate for a family with six children. Some people work—others don’t because they can’t find jobs; some people live in extreme wealth—others starve; yet we are told that we produce more than we can consume. The house of social order lacks just and intelligent planning.

And the modern world is dangerous both for old age and youth. Elderly people cannot look forward with easy assurance to a restful life of retirement. Recurrent financial crises have made life for many people an unending economic struggle. And the young people of the world who are fitting themselves by advanced education for greater service to others face a political set-up which practically guarantees a devastating war each generation. The modern house of social order educates and prepares its best youth and then destroys them in “necessary” war.

THERE are four alternative lines of action which individuals in the modern world may follow. First, we may continue living placidly in the old frame house and shut our [Page 297] eyes to its ugliness, inefficiency, and dangers. This is the line of action which most people seem to take. It is the way of least resistance, the way of selfishness. In a very definite sense, these contented folk are the “dead” to whom Jesus referred when He rebuked His disciples by saying, “Let the dead bury their dead.” A stroll down the busy streets of any city enables us to see who the dead are. For many are the selfish, strained, blank, and brutal faces of passers-by. Nicholas Murray Butler coined the apt phrase—“dead at thirty, buried at sixty.”

But we may follow another alternative. We may patch up and repair the house of social order. A new paint job, a new roof, new plumbing, some changed partitions may seem sufficient to meet the problems of ugliness, inefficiency, and danger. But is this not just a conscious-salving process? Minor repairs to the social order—very expensive though they may be—do not change the hatreds, the diseases of prejudices, which have been built into the very foundation and structure of the house itself.

A third alternative is that of destroying the social order. Many people, sickened and incensed at the injustices which seem present in all phases of life, work zealously to destroy the social house. They hope by tearing down the structure of things as they are to build a better world. The zeal employed is commendable. But how can the motivation of hatred toward the social order produce a house of justice in its stead? Since when did hatred—carried far enough —produce understanding and love? Such a miracle is impossible, illogical. It is asking too much to get justice from the impetus of hatred. All that can be expected is justice for a certain group or class at the expense of other groups and classes. Could this result be much better than our present social order?

THE fourth alternative is that of building a new house of social order into which humanity may move from the old frame house. The treasures in the house of social order are human beings and those ideals, ideas and appliances which are the result of centuries of evolution. Our problem is to conserve and utilize all that is good from the cultures of all classes and all peoples. A reading of the past one hundred years indicates the deterioration and complete breakdown of social order. The need for a new world social structure is becoming more and more apparent.

This fourth alternative is that which the Bahá’ís follow. They are building a new spiritual consciousness in the hearts of people all over the world as a foundation for a new order in society. The avowed purpose of the Bahá’í Faith is the uniting of all peoples into one religious faith, regardless of religious, social, and national backgrounds. Wherever the Bahá’í Faith is established—and that is in 43 countries in the world—such an all-embracing unity is an observable fact.

But if a new house is to be built, there is needed an architect, plans and specifications, and men to build the house. Bahá’u’lláh, the founder of the Bahá’í Faith, is the architect [Page 298] whose teachings constitute a plan for a new world order, a plan which conserves and utilizes the best of all cultures and seeks social justice for all classes. The outlines of the new social house—the World Order of Bahá’u’lláh—may best be illustrated by the twelve basic Bahá’í principles: the oneness of mankind, the independent investigation of truth, the oneness of all religions, the uniting of people through religion, the agreement of science and religion, equality of men and women, the abandonment of all prejudices, the establishment of universal peace through the federalizing of the nations, universal education, the recognition that economic problems are basically spiritual, the adoption of a universal auxiliary language, the establishment of an international tribunal as the basis of a world government.

Bahá’u’lláh calls upon people to rise above the restricting prejudices of their environment, to become— now—the spiritual citizens of the world. Hundreds of thousands are responding to this call. From every background people come and find unity and understanding in the Bahá’í Faith. All over the world may be found Bahá’ís who are dedicated to the erection of a house of justice and peace in a disordered, stricken world.

It has been said that God never forces man to be religious; God merely gives man the opportunity. You and I who live in a world that is very ill—in a house that seems doomed to destruction—may choose any path of action we wish. We may live placidly in the world as we find it. We may attempt to patch up the social order. We may work to destroy present-day society. Or, we may dedicate ourselves to the erection of a New World Order—an Order whose unshakeable foundations lie in the spiritual consciousness of men and women the world over who are united in the love of God. To the investigation and achievement of this task, Bahá’ís invite you.

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DAYBREAK

VIRGINIA CRAIG HOWES

Nothing shall daunt me, nothing shall dismay me.

Darkness was all about me, and disaster,

And faith was lost and the will to live was gone,

When over the mountain the light came fast and faster;

Nothing shall daunt me, nothing shall dismay me

Who have beheld the dawn.

[Page 299]

THE WELL OF HAPPINESS

A. G. B.

I.

HAPPINESS is our birthright: it is ours to take to hold to possess in perpetuity. If it seem hidden from us it is not hidden by distance but by nearness. We do not have to go questing for it through the wide earth nor through the immensity of the heavens. It is in our midst. It is closer to us than breathing. It is buried in our own heart’s-deep, deep in the heart’s inmost recesses; and there it dwells waiting to be recognized, to be discovered.

Every one can be happy and ought to be. God expects it and enjoins it. Every Revelation comes as Glad Tidings, bidding man be glad and giving him cause to be. Every Prophet has found men wandering in sadness and misery and has rebuked them for it. He has called them away from the things that produce unhappiness from anxiety and worry and cupidity, from fear of the future, from anticipation of evil, from lack of hope and faith. He has opened to them a way of escape, promised them deliverance from evil, and the attainment, by God’s grace, of a happiness that will satisfy and endure. Now in our time the Prophet of the New Age into which we are entering, Bahá’u’lláh, gives once again the ancient glad tidings —tidings of a happiness poured forth from heaven on all men everywhere in even greater abundance, yes in far far greater abundance than ever in the history of the past—a happiness the bright and eager intensity of which can only be measured if at all by the bitterness of our need and by the extremity of our humiliation and our suffering. Exultation and victory ring in every sentence of his proclamation of the All-Glorious Advent of God. The ancient promise, He cries, is fulfilled.

God’s mercy and generosity have overcome at last the apathy and dullness of His creatures. His Name has conquered the earth. He has exposed to man’s knowledge the futility and the stupidity of strife. The long power of delusion is broken. The reign of violence and misery is doomed. The time has come for man to attain a new understanding, new ideals, a new life which will deliver him permanently from the glooms and superstitions of ignorance and will make [Page 300] possible that serene divine happiness which he was created to enjoy. The earth (throughout its entire length and breadth) ought now to be filled with songs of praise and thanksgiving; and the only reason it is not so is that the opacity of man’s pride has shut out from his knowledge the light of the joy of heaven that is beating upon him.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá taught that one of the nine marks by which the True Messenger of God was to be identified was His being “a joy bringer and the herald of the kingdom of happiness.” Bahá’u’lláh in the midst of dire afflictions showed forth a spirit of serenity and acceptance radiating in others that deep steadfast joy that filled His own heart. He taught men to think of God as a God of Bliss—as one “by whose name the sea of joys moveth and fragrances of happiness are wafted.” He bade men if they wished for happiness to pray for it to God.

“Vouchsafe me of Thy bounty that which will brighten my eyes and gladden my heart. . .” “Grant me the joy of beholding Thy eternal Being, O Thou who dwellest in my inmost heart. . .” “Send down upon me the fragrant breezes of Thy joy.”

He bade men receive His message as a summons to happiness. “O Son of Spirit! with the jovful tidings of light I hail thee: rejoice! . . . The spirit of holiness beareth unto thee joyful tidings of reunion; wherefore dost thou grieve? O Son of man! Rejoice in the gladness of thine heart, that thou mayest be worthy to meet Me and to mirror forth My Beauty.”

‘Abdu’l-Bahá brought to the world the message of the New Revelation as Glad Tidings. “If,” He would say, “this does not make you happy, what is there that will make you happy?” A man ought to be happy because if he were not he could not be in the frame of mind to receive the bounties poured forth from on high.

When He gave a direction to the English Bahá’ís for the keeping of the day of the Báb, “the day of the dawning of the heaven of Guidance,” His words were: “Be happy—be happy— be full of joy!” On another occasion He said, “The people must be so attracted to you that they will exclaim, ‘What happiness exists among you!’ and will see in your faces the lights of the Kingdom; then in wonderment they will turn to you and seek the cause of your happiness.”

When asked to describe how true believers ought to live, His first direction was that they should cause no one any unhappiness; and He closed His adjuration with a kindred thought—“Be a cause of healing for every sick one, a comforter for every sorrowful one, a pleasant water for every thirsty one, a star to every horizon, a light for every lamp, a herald to every one who yearns for the Kingdom of God.”

In the days of persecution in Persia so great a spirit of happiness pervaded the Bahá’ís that it was said one could not take tea with them without wishing to join their society; and so strong was their personal influence that their enemies believed them to be possessed of some unholy magic by which they won the hearts of men to believe in the new doctrine. We have for so long sought happiness by secular or [Page 301] even pagan ways that although these are leading us to a dead end, we find it hard to admit that we have been traveling altogether in the wrong direction. Religion (for all the honors we instinctively pay it) has in the hands of traditionalists and formalists proved itself so impotent, a cause of so much division and discord, that when once again for the first time in hundreds and hundreds of years a Divine Prophet stands in our midst and in the name of God offers deliverance and peace of heart and blessedness we can hardly believe our eyes or our ears.

We refuse to recognize that a clue to the most precious of all lost secrets has been put into our hands and that the mystery of a perfect love has been opened to us. The very lavishness and immensity of the gift bewilders us, almost stupefies us: as though a beggar had asked a crust and was given a kingdom. The timeliness of the gift still further enhances its value and magnifies our astonishment.

RELIGION has become more and more discredited. Its results have not seemed at all worth its disciplines. Its views on life have grown antiquated and do not fit nor illumine modern conditions of society. Those who appeared as the protagonists of religion have not stood out as models of happiness or broad sympathies: they have not been able to give men any clear guidance in the moral mazes of modern existence nor to impart comfort or strength in the frustrations that beset our efforts at stabilizing the social order.

Men have found many excuses for letting their faith grow cold and their religious sense become atrophied by disuse. Ordinary every day human life has become so varied, so rich, so full of change and of movement and of novelty that it seems to be quite full and satisfying in itself and to stand in no need of religion. Men find full employment and room for intense and engrossing activities in purely secular and mundane interests. Never have they acquired so much to gratify their pride; never have they been so equipped to refine and elaborate their pleasures. They sought happiness altogether in the material things that lay to their hand.

And to large extent—they found it!

God is kind and generous. He has made it easier for man to be happy than to be unhappy. He has scattered some kind or other of pleasantness for us everywhere. No one can miss it all! Songs of celestial delight, fragrances from the Gardens of Paradise, rays of some beatific Beauty are borne to earth on all the winds of heaven and cause some echo, however brief, some reflection, dim or faint; or find some home in the hearts of men wherein to rest. We sharpened our intellects, cast away our superstitions and obscurations of the past, unearthed the secrets of nature, appropriated her powers and extended our control over the world about us in a manner in which our ancestors even a century ago would never have imagined to be possible. Never had so complex and so forceful a civilization been reared upon the face of the earth. And if we were compelled to feel there was something incomplete and insecure about it all; [Page 302] if we realized the tiger and the ape in us had not been outgrown, and if we saw that in spite of ourselves we were sinking back to the primitive ways of the jungle; nevertheless no earlier generation of men had found so much in the world to amuse and divert and flatter and gratify them, or to prove so clearly their supremacy over all the lower forms of creation. If all civilized beings were not supermen they were assuredly superanimals and had at command a thousand kinds of intellectual entertainment which were peculiarly human and their own. Men explored the resources of humanism and bathed their souls and their senses in its delights. Intellectuals discounted that part of our tradition which is derived from Israel and emphasized more and more that which has come down to us from Greece. They turned not their hearts only but their minds too from their religious inheritance to an inheritance that was definitely not religious but artistic and literary. The Greeks carved statues of their gods which remain to this day models of taste and skill and are the envy and admiration of the world: but those gods were assuredly not made to be worshipped. The Greeks reared the Parthenon and countless temples, which are in their kind masterpieces as perfect as their works of sculpture. But these temples do not suggest the unseen world; they do not carry with them an air of mystery, of awe, of exaltation. Contrast them with a Christian cathedral —with that sense of distance, with that sublimity and aspiration which the soaring lives of Gothic awake in the spectator’s soul,—and the limitation of the Greek architect at once is betrayed. A Greek temple with its flat lines is of the earth, earthy: “A table on four legs: a dull thing” as William Morris is said to have exclaimed of the Parthenon: and he was no belittler of the beauty of the past.

No one would disparage the glory that was Greece nor yet the splendor that was Rome. All the enconiums passed upon them recently by scholars are no doubt as just as they are enthusiastic. But the most significant thing about the revival of Greek influence is that its champions attribute that revival to the fact that the Greek world was non-religious and purely humanistic and that its affinity which connects our age with theirs lies in the common limitations of both. In neither does the spiritual seek to find expression. Revelation was unknown to the Greeks and is inacceptable to the modern: hence they say in our outlook on life we are akin.

One of the greatest authorities on Greek humanism, Professor R. W. Livingstone, a brilliant and charming writer, puts the point quite clearly in his book “Greek Genius and Its Meaning To Us.” “Let us sum up,” he says, “the reasons of our approximation to Greece. First is Greek humanism. . . . The Greek sat himself to answer the question how with no revelation from God to guide him . . . man should live. It has been a tendency in our own age either to deny that heaven has revealed to us in any way how we ought to behave or to find such a revelation in human nature itself. In [Page 303] either case we are thrown back on ourselves and obliged to seek our guide there. That is why the influence of Greece has grown so much. The Greeks are the only people who have conceived the problem similarly; their answer the only one that has yet been made.”

That is very clear. But who will affirm that the masterpieces inspired by the Christian religion are less splendid than those of Greek humanism? Who will deny that Christian literature and art, in all its branches, the work of men as various as Michael Angelo and Milton, and Dante and da Vinci; has a beauty and a power and a richness and a majesty even superior to that of Greeks—and to what is this due but manifestly and confessedly to a spiritual revelation?

Whatever masterpieces of humanistic art and craftsmanship the Greeks may have left us, did they bequeath to posterity any secret of happiness— of a happiness that really satisfies leaving no hunger, a happiness that endures producing no satiety and not ending at the last in something that is not happiness? And those academicians who drank deeply of the fountain of Greek wisdom, have they been able to save us from this self-stultification of intellectualism?

Is there to be found in Greek literature or art anything comparable to that high noble courageous invincible joy that vibrates in a book which formally is by no means a Greeklike masterpiece of artistic skill or genius —the New Testament?

It was the Greeks who handed down to us the story of the Skeleton at the Feast and told how before the banquet closed a servant would bring in a skeleton and bid the guests “eat drink and be merry for tomorrow you die.” It was the Greeks who said no man should be called happy till his death, and they certainly did not promise him much happiness beyond it. Not to live long, they thought, was best; those whom the gods loved died young. The most wonderful and famous of their literary works gave no message of glory and hope and triumph, but were tragedies, written frequently around themes of a sombre, terrifying and even gruesome cast.

Scholars have remarked that an undertone of sadness seemed to run through the great literature of Greece. The reason is that it is humanistic— and nothing more. For when humanism thinks deeply, it thinks sadly. Our English Renaissance was not so secular as was the culture of ancient Greece: far from it. England was a Christian country with a Christian tradition and the Authorized Version was produced at the same time as the Tempest and The Winter’s Tale. But the accent of its Renaissance was on the human not the spiritual side, and Shakespeare in this was a true exponent of it. Broad as his sympathies were, if there be any character he could not have understood nor have put sympathetically into a drama, it is such a one as Shelley. You will find many notes in Shakespeare’s singing; but not the note of the poetry of Blake. Shakespeare’s world was far from being as Revelationless as that of ancient Greece; but the mystical aspect of things is not brought into his picture.

[Page 304] He too, when he thought deeply, thought sadly. His greatest works are not his comedies, brilliant as these are. Even in these there is a shadow: not only in the Merchant of Venice but even in the gayest of all, Twelfth Night and As You Like It, and still more in The Tempest (Poor Prospero: at the end he must bury his art—not carry it on to happier fulfilment!) But his greatest works were his tragedies and his fame rests on them.

How mighty and vigorous, how confident, adventurous, and triumphant was the England of those days, the England of Queen Elizabeth! Yet that eager and self-sufficient age did not through its most eloquent spokesman speak the fullest happiness. Could any illustration show more conclusively the inadequacy of humanism to meet the needs of humanity?

However gay, delightful, praiseworthy the happiness that humanism fathers, it must in the nature of things be qualified. It cannot be complete. Humanism can only bid us make the best of things—to look on the bright side and take the rough with the smooth. But sorrow and suffering cannot be ignored or evaded. They will insistently intrude themselves. It is not the stoic who has overcome the world and is able to bequeath his joy to others when he is gone. No, sorrow and suffering must be faced and included within the scheme of happiness: there is no device by which they can be left on the outside of life and induced to remain there! And if this alternation of shadow and light, this chequered and inconstant happiness be the best that life can give; if our well-being be the sport of circumstance and the plaything of fate, then indeed one can hardly escape from pessimism. The birds of the air who neither have to sow nor reap are happier than we!

It is religion which teaches us that pessimism is utterly wrong; that pessimism is the product of a circumscribed and limited experience. It is religion which for the first time opens up to man’s vision the height and depth, the range and the reality of God’s munificence to His creatures.

God has created for man other sources of pleasure and happiness which lie beyond those of reason and the senses; He has created solaces, delights, raptures which arise out of the activity of higher powers, higher faculties, and belong to man’s moral nature, to the inmost and most real sphere of his being. The sphere of conscience, of the sense of right and wrong, of spiritual perception, has been affirmed by God and is felt instinctively by man to be of greater value and dignity, to be farther from earth and nearer to heaven, than the realm of sensibility or ratiocination; and the content, the tranquility, the happiness, the ecstasy that attach to it (like too its pains) are more deeply set and more vital than those which derive from the lower ranges of man’s consciousness. The common every day experience of every moral being bears witness to this truth; and the long, glorious story of those who in every age have labored to advance civilization, to promote moral progress, to establish the practice of true religion, is rich in proofs of it.

(To be concluded)

[Page 305]

THE POSSIBILITY OF PROGRESS

W. RUSSELL TYLOR

IDEALISM in some form has always been an element in the culture of a people. Ideals, in turn, have changed with the changes in a group’s culture. Head-hunting among primitives, apart from being associated with certain superstitious rites and values, was, for them, an ideal expression of valor, which a youth must attain before he could be regarded as an adult. Nevertheless, the Igorrot head-hunters of the Philippines were turned from the war path by the Americans, who taught them a more adequate substitute for their valor in sports.

In significant contrast, the Chinese, among whom duels were unknown, who abhorred war, and who did not regard surrender in battle as a disgrace, adopted military ideals and practices only after their isolation and traditional regime had been broken by contacts with other peoples. Writes Professor E. A. Ross, a dean of American sociologists, in his The Changing Chinese: “Chinese pusillanimity indicates not the want of natural grit, but the fact that the bold, manly qualities have not been stimulated among them as they have been among us, by social appreciation.”

Just as specific elements of a culture become subject to changes in appraisal by the character of the group appreciation, so a culture in its entirety, or a civilization as a whole, may be subjected to evaluation in the light of its historic trends. Such evaluation in turn may reflect the philosophy of life of the individual or of the group making it.

Professor Patrick Geddes, outstanding British civic designer and social philosopher, in his Evolution of Cities, characterizes all great cities in effect, from Babylon to New York, as passing through the following stages of development and change: polis; metropolis; megalopolis; parasitopolis; pathalopolis; necropolis. This march of the life of cities through the stages of youth, maturity, enfeeblement and death was later applied by Spengler in his Untergang des Abendlands to the whole of urbanized Western civilization.

Commenting upon Spengler’s interpretation of gross-stadtircher kultur, [Page 306] Lewis Mumford, a modern social idealist and civic planner, remarks: “Our destiny is in the balance. There are forces that are working toward an extension of megalopolitanism, toward a more rigid mechanical and finally destructive form of civilization, with its congested cities, its vast slum proletariat, its promise of an internecine warfare, organized with the most precise applications of science, and unrestrained by any deep life-sense, in which whole populations will commit suicide and murder on a scale beside which the recent world war will seem little more than a gang fight. On the other hand, the roots of a provincial culture are always alive, and the recent rise of nationalism and regionalism in Europe is evidence of an effort to break away from these deadly megalopolitan forms. . . .”

While Professor Warren S. Thompson, sociologist and social statistician, in discussing “The Future of the Large City” in the American Mercury for July, 1930, holds that: “It may be an urban area, covering a relatively large territory, with many subcenters, so organized that the advantages of business and of mass production can be retained, and yet so decentralized that all but a few people can live within a short distance of their work, while having also sufficient space both indoors and out that they can enjoy mere living.”

This latter view, it may be added, rather than the Spenglerian eclipse of civilization, dominates the whole of our modern civic planning movements, especially in their regional aspects, even though adverse historic trends already noted are recognized.

In further marked contrast to Spengler, Walter Libby, in his Introduction to Contemporary Civilization, holds that the concept of progress is today “the animating and controlling idea of Western civilization.” Certainly the designation of the Chicago Fair as representing a “Century of Progress,” gives potency to this view. The inevitability of progress, however, quite apart from any religious implications, is not inherent in the concept, nor is it universally accepted by social scientists.

It was Lucretius, the Latin poet, who originated the word “progress” in the fifth book of his “De Rerum Natura.” It comes from the Latin “progredior” meaning to advance. The writings of Lucretius, the most distinguished disciple of Epicurus, do not reveal faith in a continuous progress, so much as a resignation to the inevitable source of nature, which he regarded as largely subject to chance, although he realized that only by extremely slow and gradual improvement of the material and social conditions had ancient civilizations been formed.

Later, when Bacon and Descartes spoke of progress they were referring to the progress in knowledge, and they, together with Newton and Leibnitz, originated the intellectual concept of progress. Hegel and Comte injected into the concept a spiritual element. Wrote Hegel: “The key to the world is the inner life of man.”

Modern thought reflects much of this historical background. Representative sociological thought adopts neither a Spenglerian philosophy of [Page 307] decadence or despair, nor an overoptimistic philosophy of the inevitable dawn of the millenium, of the kingdom of heaven on earth. Rather is it to be characterized by the philosophy of meliorism, or a recognition of the possibility of improvement. This philosophy was announced by Lester F. Ward, one of the founders of American sociology, in his classical treatise Applied Sociology, published during the first decade of the century. Writing in the Preface to this work relative to the role of a true science of society, Ward sounds a keynote that might be as applicable to 1938 as to 1906 when he says:—

“The central thought is that of a true science of society, capable, in the measure that it approaches completeness, of being turned to the profit of mankind. If there is one respect in which it differs more than in others from rival systems of philosophy it is in its practical character of never losing sight of the end or purpose, nor of the possibilities of conscious effort. It is a reaction against the philosophy of despair that has come to dominate even the most enlightened scientific thought. It aims to point out a remedy for the general paralysis that is creeping over the world, and which a too narrow conception of the law of cosmic evolution serves rather to increase than to diminish. It proclaims the efficacy of effort, provided it is guided by intelligence.”

Among thinkers recognizing the possibility rather than the inevitability of progress, three principal types of exponents may be readily discerned.

There are first the geographic environmentalists who would emphasize climate and natural resources as primary in conditioning man’s activities by presenting impelling needs while at the same time imposing severe limitations. Man becomes literally a child of nature.

Ellsworth Huntington, of Yale, geographer, in his Civilization and Climate makes bold enough to state that “a large part of the reasoning of this book stands or falls with the hypothesis of climatic pulsations in historic times.” Nevertheless a perusal of meteorological records shows, as Professor P. T. Sorokin, head of the department of sociology at Harvard, has pointed out, that climate has not changed to a very great extent in historical times, certainly by no means comparable to the rise and fall of empires. More contemporaneously, there was no change in the climate of Japan during the last half of the last century, during which period Japanese civilization was markedly altered. Looking toward the future, the noted English geographer, Griffith Taylor, in a book off the Oxford University Press a few years ago entitled Environment and Race, does not think race so important as environment in the coming economic struggles for supremacy.

With all due acknowledgment to the background importance in social destiny of the physical world of nature and of her material resources and forces, the stricter school of geographic determinism introduced by Ratzel is being superseded by the more modern theory of geographic “possibilism” introduced by Vidal de [Page 308] la Blache, the founder of the French Regional School. This latter theory pervades modern regional geography, and it is likewise the accepted theory of modern sociologists. Natural resources and climate provide the stage setting as it were for the human drama, but they by no means specifically determine the plot of the drama, nor the character of its acts. Different societal forms are associated with the same geographic environment and similar customs are found in unlike geographic environments.

In striking contrast to the physical environmentalists are the racialists or biologists who view the possibilities inherent in life as essentially conditioned by the biological character of the human stocks that comprise the actors in the social drama. Leading exponents of biological race superiority formerly included the Frenchmen, Count de Gobineau and Vasher de Lapouge, the German anthropologists, Otto Ammon and George Hansen, and the Englishman, H. Stewart Chamberlain. The principles of Darwinism provide the background for any biological approach to social interpretation, whether given a racial hereditary or an individual hereditary emphasis as in the case of Sir Francis Galton’s Hereditary Genius. The relative validity of the two may be appraised in the currently accredited scientific view that there is far greater variation between individuals in the same race than there is between any two races as such.

Leading contemporary authorities in the fields of race differences, anthropologists and psychologists such as Professors Franz Boas and Otto Klineberg of Columbia University among others, hold that fundamental differences in the behavior of racial groups are explicable on a cultural rather than on a biological basis. Individual heredity is, of course, a factor which must be reckoned with, but its scientific and logical social implications lead neither to a grossly distorted emphasis on race as expressed in present day Nazi Germany, nor to an anchoring of our social faith essentially in a school of eugenics.

The views of yet a third group of thinkers need to be duly appreciated in reference to the possibility of progress and these may be characterized as the cultural environmentalists or institutionalists. Man, according to them, must not seek his social salvation in his geographic and biological heritage so much as in his social heritage. His customs, laws, manners and beliefs, the forms and functioning of his social institutions—the family, school, church, factory and state —it is rather these that condition his well being.

Thus Professor Hornell Hart, sociologist, in his Technique of Social Progress, designates certain basic conditions upon which the future of civilization depends. These comprise: the development of inspiring patterns which the youth of the world accept as worth living and dying for; the predominance of creative over dissipative activities; the substitution of the principle of cooperation for that of exploitative coercion; the development of scientific insight into matters of social and political evolution; and the shaping of international policies to promote integration and [Page 309] federation. These, and similar aspects in other connections, are stressed by modern sociologists.

Professor Charles A. Ellwood, head of the department of sociology at Duke University, in his Man’s Social Destiny in the Light of Science, holds that sin and complacency in sin are characteristic of communities as well as of individuals, and that until this moral awakening comes to communities the outlook for a better human world is dark. He would emphasize, however that while there are possibly not more than 5% of humanity who can be taught to solve our more complex social problems, perhaps 95% can be taught to appreciate a right solution.

In conclusion, this faith in the efficacy of intelligent effort has been further challengingly expressed by Victor Branford, English scholar and former editor of The Sociological Review, in his Science and Sanctity: A Study in the Scientific Approach to Unity.

“The biologist is coming to see life as a unity of body-mind-spirit. The theologian has long seen it as a unity of spirit-mind-body. A role of intermediacy between these two great unities is marked out for psychologist and sociologist.”

“The synthesis of science must be a living and concrete affair. . . . In the last resort, it is the problem of life-abundant for this Home and its Family, this Region, City, Town, Village and their several inhabitants. The factors of attainment are foresight of that fullest life, detailed plans for its achievement and a comprehensive design of realization. . . . In short, we must live a life at once scientific and religious.”

“There is needed for a reconstituted Spiritual Power, an intimacy, close as the marriage tie, between men of science and three other groups. These are “makers” of religion and poetry, the creators of art, the seers of vision. Nothing less than an orchestra of all these, staged to play a veritable music of man, is demanded by the modern spirit.”

If these, then, constituting the 5% capable of insight, wisdom and inspiration in defining the goals of our collective endeavor, are adequately supported by an enlightened majority of mankind—the hewers of wood and drawers of water—social progress will become not only a possibility but a supreme reality.

[Page 310]

ISLAM

ALI-KULI KHAN

II.

THE LIFE OF MUHAMMAD

MECCA and its Holy Temple lie between the Yemen and Syrian border within the great mountain range which skirts the Red Sea. The sandy deserts stretch from the sea to the inland by some one hundred miles to At-Ta’if, a garden sport of delicious fruits and many trees and streams. Mecca itself is surrounded by miles of barren desert and no trees are to be seen in the city, which is watered by a conduit from the springs of Arafat.

Mecca is in the tropics, but with no tropical showers. Occasional rains begin in December. The heat in autumn is oppressive. The hills all around keep the valley close and sultry and the heat of the sun on the gravelly soil is almost unbearable. Even in winter, the traveler complains of stifling heat and closeness. And yet for long ages this spot has been reverenced by millions of pilgrims.

When Abraha retreated from Mecca, Abd-al-Muttalib, now over seventy years old, enjoyed the highest rank. He had lately taken to his son, Abd-Allah, aged then about twenty-four, a wife called Amina, a descendant of Zuhra, brother of the famous Kosai. He, too, married Hala, the cousin of Amina, of which marriage the famous Hamza was born. Abd-Allah went on a mercantile expedition to southern Syria. On the return journey he became sick at Medina and met his death at the age of twenty-five, while his wife Amina had not yet been delivered. He left an inheritance of five camels, a flock of goats, and Mu Aiman, a slave girl called also Baraka, who nursed the child Muhammad, who was born later. This was all the inheritance which Muhammad received from his father at his birth in August 570 A.D., perhaps on the twentieth of the month. The birth brought infinite joy to Abd-al-Muttalib, who took the child in his arms to the Ka’aba, giving praise to God. Hence the name Muhammad, or “the one for whom praise is offered.” The child was sent to Halima among the tribe Bani Sa’d where he remained until at two years he was weaned and [Page 311] taken to his home. The child had a healthy and robust appearance, looking like one double the age. The mother ordered Halima to take him back to the desert for fear of the unhealthy air of Mecca. There he remained until the age of five. About that time the child manifested a condition which non-Muslim historians consider probably as a fit of epilepsy but which, to the Muslim, was indicative of the inspiration which he, later as a prophet, felt at the time of revelation. On returning to Mecca, the child, a year later, strayed from the nurse, who could not find him. In fear she repaired to Abd-al-Muttalib, one of whose sons discovered the child wandering in Upper Mecca. In later life, referring to his early upbringing amongst the desert Arabs, Muhammad told his opponents with pride, “Verily, I am the most perfect Arab amongst you; my descent is from the Koreish and my tongue is the tongue of the Bani-Sa’d.”

Amina remained a month at Medina. and then set out for Mecca. On the way she became ill and died at Al-Abwa, where she was buried. His mother’s loss imparted to the youthful Muhammad that pensive and meditative character which remained with him through life. Thus he became an orphan in 576 A.D. and Abd-al-Muttalib took him in charge. The latter died in 578 A.D. His death left Hashim’s children without any powerful head and gave ascendancy to those of Omeiya, the other branch of Koreish. Az-Zubeir, the oldest of his children, inherited his dignity and offices, which later fell to his brothers Abu Talib and Al-Abbas.

Abu Talib became the orphan’s guardian until, through his tender treatment, his nephew grew up. At that time Abu Talib, taking Muhammad, made a mercantile journey to Syria. The latter was then twelve years of age. The journey left a lasting impression upon the child’s mind as he visited the Holy Land and the great cities of the plains in Syria, passing through several Jewish settlements and coming in contact with the Christians there. Even though the Christianity of Syria was in a fallen state and Judaism in decadence, they presented a contrast with the gross idol-worship of Mecca.

GREAT tribal struggles occurred between 580 and 590 A.D. At a fair held at Okaz, within three days’ journey east of Mecca, came together many merchants and Bedawi chiefs. Poetic contests were held there and the best poem was distinguished by being suspended on the walls of Ka’aba. The conflicts above referred to are known as “sacrilegious wars,” as they occurred in the month of Dhu’l-Ka’da, one of the sacred months in which war was forbidden. After four years, a truce was called. In one of the battles Muhammad followed his uncles, but although about twenty years old, he did not show love of arms. Attending those fairs Muhammad, no doubt, was struck by the variety of faith and origin of the visitors, which he was later to mould into a unit in the faith of the oneness of God to win the world to Islam. The Arabs hated the Christians and the Jews, and these detested the Arab tribes as heathens. Tradition relates [Page 312] that in those fairs Koss, bishop of Nijran, preached a doctrine which Muhammad later related was purer than any Meccan creed.

Following the truce Az-Zubir, eldest surviving son of Abd-al-Muttalib, originated a league amongst Koreish for the protection of the oppressed. The league played an important part in the later life of Muhammad as the prophet.

At one time, in his youth, Muhammad became a shepherd, tending sheep and goats in the valleys nearby, a coincidence reminding one of certain other prophets such as Moses and David who were also shepherds. Hence it is said by Muhammad: “No prophet was raised up who performed not the work of a shepherd.” While tending sheep in the solitude of the desert, he reflected upon the works of the Creator and read the lesson of divine omnipresence in the bright constellations of heaven.

The prophet’s biographers all agree in speaking of Muhammad in his youth as a model of modesty and purity of manners, rare amongst the Meccans. He escaped the temptations which ensnared the youth and preserved his virtue miraculously. Reflection and contemplation furnished him with the joy superior to the pleasures known to youth, and the fine character and honorable bearing of the unobtrusive youth compelled the praise of his fellow men, who all agreed to call him Al-Amin, “the faithful.” He lived a retired life in the family of Abu-Talib, who had no means nor enjoyed a high position in Meccan society. As his family increased, Abu-Talib decided to start his nephew Muhammad to earn a livelihood for himself. Muhammad was never ambitious for worldly riches nor coveted wealth. He preferred a quiet life to the bustle of a business journey, but his uncle proposed (when he was twenty-five years of age) that he should start with a caravan of Koreish belonging to the rich lady Khadija, daughter of Khoweilid, who needed men of her tribe to take her merchandise. Muhammad agreed. The matter was proposed to Khadija, who agreed to hire his nephew for four camels, although she had hired others for two camels, saying: “Hadst thou asked this thing for one of an alien tribe, I would have granted it; how much rather now for a near-relative and friend.” Thus Muhammad traveled to Syria, which he had visited thirteen years before, and returned with a result more than in his favor. On this journey tradition at Bosra brings him to Nestorius, who embraced him as “the coming prophet,” having seen in him the signs set down in the Scriptures. At that time Christianity was changed into a conflict of parties dealing with Trinity and the worship of Mary which the master-mind of the age, Muhammad, found much akin to Arabian idolatry.

Muhammad reported the result of his successful journey to Khadija. She was charmed by the dark and pensive eyes, noble features and graceful form of her agent. The comely widow, who had been married twice, was now forty years of age and had borne two sons and a daughter. Khadija and Muhammad married a short time later. She provided a feast [Page 313] at which a cow was slaughtered. He wore a marriage dress. Her father united her to Muhammad in the presence of his uncle Hamza. Thus her house became his home, and her help supported him in the doubts and longings which now began to agitate his soul.

During the first twelve years Khadija bore him two sons and four daughters. The first son was named Al Kasim. Hence, as an Arab custom, Muhammad received the title Abu-al-Kasim, “father of Al Kasim.” This son died at the age of two years.

At this time Muhammad was more than middle size, his figure spare but handsome and commanding, his chest broad and open, his bones and frame large and well-knit. His face beamed with intelligence. His back leaned slightly forward, his step was hasty yet decided, as that of one descending a declivity. He showed a graceful urbanity in his manner. His words were pregnant and laconic and at times humorous and witty. His strong passion was under control and when much excited, the vein between his eyebrows would swell. There hid in him a high resolve, a singleness of purpose and a compelling will. At the age of thirty-five he saw Koreish rebuilding of the Ka’aba which (in 605 A.D.) was shattered by a violent flood.

THE Black Stone built into the walls of the Ka’aba is semicircular, some six inches in height and eight in breadth. Some say it was a thunderbolt and some that it was of volcanic origin.

There was rivalry among Koreish chiefs as to who should place the Black Stone in place. Muhammad appeared on the scene, and the rivals seeing him said, “Here is Al-Amin ‘the faithful.’ Let him decide.” He spread his mantle on the ground and placed the Stone in the middle and called the rivals each to hold a corner and raise the Stone. This restored peace and conferred equal honor upon rivals.

The Ka’aba is clothed in a covering cloth, which is a sign of sovereignty in those who supply it at need. Now it is prepared and offered by Egypt. The great idol Hubal was placed within the Ka’aba and other images were ranged on the outside.

The incident of rivalry in placing the Stone shows that in those days there was no paramount authority in Arabia, as each chief claimed independence. Continuous struggle failed to establish any one chief in authority until the rise of Muhammad. Despite the absence of a strong government, commerce and trade flourished at Mecca and trade was pursued with Persia, Syria and Irak. In 606 A.D. a trade mission from Arabia reached the presence of Khosroes, the Persian Sasani king.

In those days Muhammad’s only son died and he adopted, in his place, Ali, the son of his former guardian, Abu Talib. Ali was then five or six years of age, and all through their lives Muhammad and Ali showed one another the mutual attachment of father and child. Muhammad, who was inclined to ardent and lasting friendships, admitted to his intimacy Zeid, son of Haritha, who although not a relative, was of more equal age. [Page 314] He, too, was adopted as a son.

Before the declaration of Muhammad, four men appeared—as “Inquirers” who, led by prophecies in the Old and New Testaments, awaited the immediate coming of a prophet in Arabia. These Koreishites were Othman and Waraka, Obeid Ullah and Zeid, cousin of Omar. They accepted Islam when it was decleared by Muhammad.

In his fortieth year Muhammad, who was always pensive, became more thoughtful and retiring. He often went to a cave below Mount Hira for seclusion and reflection. Since that time, Hira is called the “Mountain of Light,” due to the fact that Muhammad received his first revelation there. But it is a dreary place and much secluded. The following verse was revealed at this period (Sura CIII):—

“By the declining day I swear!

Verily, man is in the way of ruin;

Excepting such as possess faith,

And do the things which are right,

And stir up one another unto truth and steadfastness.”

At this period, while praying for guidance to differentiate the voice of inspiration from what might be the whisperings of fancy, he prayed for guidance in the language of the Sura of praise (The first Sura).

FROM AGE 40 TO 43

609-612 A.D.

Revelation began to control Muhammad’s soul. What to the outside world seemed as rhapsodies and poetical ardor, was the language of Divine inspiration revealed to bring order of Godworship from the chaos of heathenism and ignorance into which his race had sunk. Speaking of resurrection and the day of general confusion, He sung of

“The day on which mankind shall be like moths scattered abroad,

And the mountains like the wool of divers colors carded.

Then as for him whose balances are heavy, he shall enter in bliss;

And as for him whose balances are light, the pit shall be his dwelling place.

And what shall certify thee what is pit? A raging Fire!”

(Sura CI)

Likewise; in the Suras XCV, CIV and in LXXXIX, where the ancient and now extinct races and kingdoms are mentioned as a warning to those who would not believe.

The friends of Muhammad, such as His wife Khadija, Ali and Zeid, listened to His words with reverence; so was His friend Abu Bekr with Warka (one of the four “Inquirers”). But these made no impression upon the people who were enveloped in darkness. The kind Abu Taleb smiled at his nephew’s passionate words, but Abu Lahab, another uncle, scoffed and reviled Him. Likewise His uncle Abu Jahl and his party sneered, calling Him a “half witted creature.” The pagan masses remained indifferent and suggested to Jews and Christians (who expected a “prophet”) to listen to Him.

The attitude of His relations and the masses caused Muhammad mental depression and, at times, doubt and hesitation. To reassure Him, the [Page 315] Sura XCIII was revealed, wherein He was told: “Thy Lord hath not forsaken thee. . . . The future shall surely be better unto thee than the past.” Nevertheless, His distress seemed at times unbearable, and he is said by some to have contemplated suicide. (See Sura XVIII-5; XXVI-2). Was this seeming urge (he might have asked) a revelation from Heaven, or the stirring of the Evil One? For throughout the Qur’án strong warning is revealed against speaking falsely in the name of God. He might (he thought) rather throw himself from one of the mountain cliffs than make himself the object of such warnings. At such moments of doubt and distress, He found solace by the side of Khadija, who assured Him that his visitants were angels of inspiration and not satanic temptation. This would revive the old hope within Him and make Him firm and strong. And the revelation in the Sura CX would promise that “the help of the Lord shall come and victory,” as it did of old to Moses and the prophets whom the Lord rendered successful against mighty foes.

Gabriel perhaps would visit Him as he did Zachariah of old, to indicate a New Dispensation. Just then in Hira, the celestial apparition brought the Sura XCVI: “Recite in the name of the Lord who created,—created man from naught but congealed blood,” etc., etc.

This led Muhammad to assume authority. To avoid being understood as the author of the verse, He prefixed the verse with “speak” or “say,” showing that He was the Lord’s mouthpiece. The said chapter is held to be the first revealed to the Prophet.

But in Mecca the Divine Mission was received with scorn and its author called a “demented poet” or as one possessed by the evil genii.

Tradition relates that the early inspiration received by the Prophet was in the form of “real visions.” He would then seek seclusion, and this went on until the “truth burst upon him in the cave.” An angel from the sky called to him: “O Muhammad! I am Gabriel.” He hurried home and revealed the matter to Khadija, who in turn hastened to her cousin Waraka. The aged man answered: “By the Lord! He speaketh the truth. It is the beginning of Prophecy, and the great Law shall soon come upon him, as it did upon Moses.” Then for a time Gabriel ceased to appear to him. He was depressed and ascended the cliff with the thought of self-destruction when, lo and behold, the angel appeared again!

With the revelation of the 96th Sura, began an interval in which no verses were revealed. That interval is called the “period of Fitra” which lasted from six months to three years.

Ibn Sa’ad states that at the time of revelation He fell to the ground like one unconscious, or one overcome by sleep; and in the coldest day His forehead would be burdened with large drops of perspiration. Later in life, Muhammad referred his gray hairs to the effect produced by the “terrific Suras,” namely the Sura Hud, the Suras XI, XXI and others of the “Sister Suras,” the “Inevitable,” etc. The Qur’án was revealed both for men and the genii (see Sura XV— [Page 316] verse 18). (The genii referred to, we believe, signified those who would believe in Islam in subsequent times.)

FROM THE ASSUMPTION OF THE PROPHETICAL OFFICE TO THE FIRST EMIGRATION TO ABYSSINIA.

(AGED 44-45) A.D. 613-614.

At 44, Muhammad was firmly convinced of His mission as a prophet. Khadija was His first convert, and Ali was the first male convert. His uncle Abu Talib chose to continue in the faith of his forefathers, but assured Muhammad that he would permit no one to molest Him as long as he lived.

After Khadija and Ali, Abu Bekr, of another branch of the Kareish, a prominent merchant and a friend of the Prophet, believed in Him. At the time of his conversion, he owned 40,000 silver pieces, which he employed in purchasing persecuted slaves and making them Muslims and free. When ten or twelve years later he emigrated with the Prophet to Medina, he had but 5,000 pieces left. Sa’ad, son of Abu Wakkas, a nephew of Amina, mother of the Prophet, when seventeen years old, was the next convert, followed by Az-Zubeir, Talha, Othman and Abdur Rahman. These five were brought in through the influence of Abu-Bekr.

Of the slaves ransomed by Abu-Bekr, one was Balal, a negro, called by Muhammad the “first fruit of Abyssinia,” who became a Moslem. He held the office of muez’zen, or one calling the faithful to prayer, during the life time of the Prophet. There were, besides, thirteen other early believers; and altogether, in the first four years of His mission, the Prophet had forty converts.

After three years of private teaching, the Prophet issued an open call to the Kareish, This led to open hostility by the Meccans, who had heretofore considered Him a harmless dreamer. For they thought that by His call their sacred shrine, Mecca, the object of worship of all Arabia, was in danger of being set at naught. But persecution proved of benefit to Him, as it promoted His cause.

About 613 A.D. he took possession of the house of Al-Arkam, situated at a short distance from his own dwelling upon the gentle rise of the Safa, near where the annual pilgrims to the Ka’aba passed by. Many found the opportunity to become converts, one of them the famous Mos’ab ibn Omeir, who proved a valiant believer in the New Cause. At this time, several slaves believed in Islam; among them Yesar and Jebr, the latter a Christian whose daughter Fokeiha married Hatab, a convert, who later migrated to Abyssinia.

Soheib, son of Sinan (a Greek) was another convert, whom the Prophet called “the first fruit of Greece.” The unbelievers asserted that from Soheib, Muhammad learned about Christianity. Hence in the Sura XVI—verse 105, this is denied, as Soheib was a “foreign tongue” while the “Prophet’s revelation is in pure Arabic.”

THE continued success of the new faith increased the jealousy of Kareish, who fell upon converted [Page 317] slaves as the most helpless objects of their wrath. Some were tortured and forced to recant. Bilal alone escaped the shame of recantation, as Abu Bekr, passing by, purchased him and this saved the freedom of his conscience.

To save their lives, a verse of the Qur’án permitted such slaves to deny their faith if compelled to do so. (See Sura XVI-108.)

Meanwhile, Muhammad remained safe under the protection of Abu Talib, but to escape persecution eleven converts, some accompanied by their wives, migrated to Abyssinia, where the Negus was friendly to Islam. This was in the fifth year of Muhammad’s mission. These included Othman and his wife Rokeiya, the Prophet’s daughter, and Abdur Rahman, besides Az-Zubeir and Mus’ab. This was the “First Flight” to that country, and proved an important landmark in the progress of Islam. For it convinced the Koreish of the converts’ genuine faith, who preferred exile to recanting.

From the beginning of His mission to the “first emigration,” namely three years, twenty Suras of the Qur’án were revealed. Of these is the Sura XCVII, in which the verse glorifying the “Night of Power” occurs. That was the night when “The Spirit,” identified later as Gabriel, descended to Him with the first revelation.

Up to this stage, the teachings of the Qur’án are simple, consisting of the “Unity of God,” the “Mission of the Prophet,” “Resurrection of the dead,” “Retribution of good and evil.” The duties enjoined are prayer, charity, honesty, truthfulness, chastity, and keeping one’s covenants. Pilgrimage to Ka’aba was not, perhaps, as yet included in the obligations. A compromise was observed in the Sura CIX, as “to you be your religion; to me mine,” although no compromise was allowed in his hostility to idolatry.

The Paradise of Muhammad depicts the joys most alluring to Arabians, and his hell suggests dreaded horrors. That Houris were allegorical creatures is borne out by the fact that when they were first mentioned, the Prophet had only one wife. (See Sura CII-21 etc.)

When the Kareish ridiculed His teaching on the “resurrection of the body” and plotted against Him, patience and forbearance were enjoined upon Him. He likewise commanded steadfastness for His followers.

(To be continued)

[Page 318]

ALTRUISM

STANWOOD COBB

HE who performs his necessary duties in this world, who works industriously and efficiently, supports his family, and carries out all of his responsibilities—he is a man we call a model citizen. Yet he has reached but one stage of the upward climb toward the Perfect Man. Above that stage is the stage of Altruism.

It is to raise man’s actions to a plane where they are motivated by love for others that the Prophets incarnate and reveal their great message to humanity. Religion calls upon all men and women to rise to the plane of altruism in their daily living.

Without the inspiration and the support which religion and the spiritual life give, it would be difficult for man to turn his egocentric self-developmental urges into altrocentric or altruistic motivation. If this transition were not difficult, it would not be so necessary for the Revelator to appear upon this planetary plane. History has proved that without revealed religion altruism does not appear in any large extent.

It is true, Nature provides certain urges toward altruism. Biologists point out that altruism first developed in the course of normal evolution with the mammal bearing its young within its body, suckling it and caring for it tenderly after birth.

Even in the animal world, the mother will protect its young at the risk or cost of its death. In the human world, marital life and parenthood produce in the average individual a certain inevitable degree of altruism. This altruism gradually extends to the complete extent of the family life, including the clan as the unit of society as has been the case in China up to date.

This family fealty and altruism, which was characteristic of all patriarchal peoples, has come down from the Mosaic Dispensation into the life of modern Jewry and is one of the most important factors in the commercial success of Jews to this day. All within the family must be helped. One for all and all for one is the ideal which generally prevails.

In feudalism the loyalty to clan enlarges into loyalty to the feudal group. And in modern times we have seen the rise of nationalism, in which loyalty and altruism have grown to [Page 319] include all of the national group. Outside of these natural or political groups, however, altruism has not prevailed.

Even within the Christian commonwealth of nations, altruism ceases upon national borders and hatred and cruelty begin.

BAHÁ’U’LLÁH proclaimed man’s duty to the world at large. His world message implies an altruism as wide as the planet itself. “Pride not yourself in this that you love your country, but rather this, that you love mankind.” Every child is to be brought up to realize his spiritual obligation to love all humanity and to work for the benefit of all races and peoples.

“All the divine messengers have come to this earth as specialists of the law of love. They came to teach a divine love to the children of men; they came to minister a divine healing between the nations; they came to cement in one the hearts of men and to bring humanity into a state of unity and concord.

“The object of the dawn of the Morn of Guidance and the effulgence of the Sun of Reality have been no other than the inculcation of the utmost love among the children of men and perfect good-fellowship between the individuals of mankind. Therefore, in the beginning the foundation of this love and unity must be laid among the believers of God, and then permeate through the nations of the world. Therefore as much as you can be ye kind towards one another, and likewise to others.

“There is the family bond which is the cause of love. There is the patriotic bond which is a basis for love. There is the racial cause which is a source of love. There is the political one which is the cause of love and unity. Partnership in business is one sort of connection.

“But there is no bond like the love of God, for the love of God is the bond eternal, and outside of it there are only temporary ones.”

Where and how shall we express this altruism in daily life? Opportunities for good deed do not occur at every moment, but the attitude of good will and of universal love can go out from us in all the events and encounters of life bringing happiness to other human beings about us, shedding a ray of that celestial light which a Savior concentrates upon humanity.

This general, pervasive spirit of altruism or universal love when permeating the whole social group establishes a marvelous atmosphere of harmony and happiness. The absence of it, on the other hand, creates an atmosphere of submerged complexes, bickerings, inharmonies and consequent unhappiness. We can make our own heaven or hell upon earth by the kind of social atmosphere we radiate and attract.

We are not asked to love everyone equally—that is impossible. “There are two kinds of love, one universal and one individual. You must love humanity in order to uplift and help humanity. Even if they kill you, you must love them. Individual love cannot be forced and you are not called upon to love everybody personally, [Page 320] but if they are in your lives see to it that they are means of your development and that you are means of their development through your universal love for them.”

“How can one love another whose personality is unpleasant?” ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was asked, and he answered: “We are creatures of the same God. We must therefore love all as children of God even though they are doing us harm. Christ loved His persecutors. It is possible for us to attain to that love. God manifested his love by creating man in his own image. Man must manifest his love by developing himself and others more and more in the image of God. The true fruit of man is, therefore, love. The purpose of a tree is to produce fruit. Man is like a tree; his fruit should be love.”

This preachment of love and harmony sounds very delightful. It is easier to say, however, than to do. As a matter of fact, it is extremely difficult for the average individual to transform his egocentric urges into altruistic urges. Here we are wrestling with primitive instincts and impulses of human nature, and the task is not easy. We should not be discouraged if the process is slow. And as pointed out in the previous chapter, we greatly need for this transformation of our motives the aid of prayer and of the Holy Spirit.

Undoubtedly the greatest force for achieving this universal love on the part of the individual is first the achieving of attachment of the heart to God. Through that attachment, the Cosmic Love is caused to stream into the human heart spontaneously, expressing itself toward other individuals in a manner that is not forced or artificial. In fact, it is doubtful if the spiritual love which is enjoined upon us by the Prophets can be attained by us in any other way.

CAN we carry altruism into our business affairs? Yes, we not only can, but must. All our work should be done in the spirit of service. Then it is equivalent to prayer. We should do our work with love, praying that it may be a means of benefaction and happiness to others.

The commercial world in its secular pattern of today, so dominated by materialism and greed, is a difficult place in which to express this attitude of service in one’s work. Yet we must somehow make a beginning, even now and today. In a later and more ideal civilization this spiritualized motivation will invade all business, and it will be easy for the individual to fall into the then prevailing altruistic current of thought and practice.

Even today in the secular world it is apparent that all business transactions are an exchange of services and are built upon a foundation of mutuality. Both parties to a transaction must derive mutual benefits and advantages from it.

It is only a matter of spiritual psychology, therefore, to transfer our motivation in business transactions from one of profit to one of service. The transaction remains the same, the profit remains the same, our living still accrues to us. But the psychological basis is far different when the spirit of service dominates than when [Page 321] the spirit of profit dominates.

When the spirit of service or altruism motivates our business or professional life we shall find a new mysterious tide of prosperity and success. For we shall be operating on the plane of the Kingdom, of which Christ said, “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God and all these things shall be added unto you.” On this plane, we rise above the jungle life of brutal economic competition into a cooperative world where prosperous living is assured for all.

Even now in the midst of a greed-motivated world the assertion of altruism in all one’s acts can be counted upon to assure material success, provided other factors of success are also present such as energy, persistence and efficiency.

There is a mysterious tide which can be counted upon to bring to us that which we send forth. “Cast your bread upon the waters and it shall return after many days.” He who sows generous measures of good will upon the fields of life will never fail to reap abundant harvests. One is thus building up a body of friendship and good will which is actually a working capital for success in life.

In another and better world where society is operated upon a more cooperative basis and where service is the prevailing motive, prosperity will flow in greater abundance to all humanity. This will be a different planet then. Want or poverty will be unknown either to the individual or to groups of society.

Altruism, therefore, or the centering of one’s motivation upon our fellows rather than upon ourselves, is in reality a feasible working basis even on the material and practical plane. Altruism is not synonymous with self-effacement. It does not call for undue sacrifice. It is a practical law—the great law of mutuality which binds all existence together.

“Love your neighbor as yourself,” said Christ. And this, you notice, is a fifty-fifty proposition. It does not call for neglect of self-needs. This is altruism: a kindly consideration of others jointly with ourselves. “Do unto others as you would like them to do unto you.”

THERE is a paradoxical claim which life makes upon us. On the one hand it demands of us a struggle for self-existence. Destiny plants deeply in us the egocentric urges for this necessary end. On the other hand, Destiny demands of us as spiritual beings, made in the image of God, a development toward altruism.

How, then, can the transition be attained? It cannot adequately be attained except through the mission of the Revelator, through His teachings, His exhortations, the example of His own life; and most important of all, through the streams of love which He lets loose upon humanity and in particular upon every individual who turns to Him and to the Holy Spirit for aid in this process.

Character for adequate and successful self-expression, character adequate to meet the responsibilities of life, may be attained without revealed religion. But the character of altruism needs the light and heat of the Spirit for its development and fruition. The seeds of altruism lie within [Page 322] us. But their potentiality can become actual only through the action of that great Sun of Truth whose rays can nurse these seeds to life.

One of the great struggles one faces in life is this constant chronic struggle to sublimate egoism into altruism. Youth starts life with egoistic urges and ambitions. This is but natural. The more powerful these urges, the better is the prognostication for ultimate success. Somewhere in the process, however, these urges must be restrained, modified, transferred into altruistic urges. And that is not easy.

The process is all the harder for those who have strong creative gifts demanding expression. The genius, the creator, is prone to self-centeredness, to egoism, to selfishness. Yet these are the salt of the earth, these are the great achievers, the ones who move the race forward and cause it to progress. Is it possible for them also to transfer their center of motivation from egoism to altruism?

Certainly it is possible. And the history of religion proves that it can be done. But because the capacity and degree of power is greater here than in the ordinary individual, the efforts toward sublimation and spititualization must also be greater.

The possession of genius can win no exemption from the spiritual law of altruism. One of the main weaknesses of past human society has been the facts that its leaders in achievement have been too much motivated by egocentric aims. Not until the world’s leadership becomes altruistic can human society hope to attain to ideal patterns.

Every person is capable of expressing kindliness and love in the daily life. No matter at what stage of spiritual development we happen to be, we can at least begin to motivate our deeds with the spirit of helpfulness.

“Try Giving Yourself Away,” urges an anonymous writer in “Forbes.” “Peoples have different things to give. Some have time, energy, skill, ideas. Others have some special talent. All of us can give away appreciation, interest, understanding, encouragement. I get my compensation out of feeling that I am a part of the life of my times, doing what I can to make things more interesting and exciting for other people. And that makes life more interesting and exciting for me, and keeps my mind keener. As if this were not enough, I find that friends multiply and good things come to me from every direction.”

That man has attained to the habitual expression of altruism who radiates kindliness and good will in all his human contacts and who does all his work in the spirit of service. It is just as easy to live this way, once one forms the habit, as to live a self-centered money-motivated life.

“Work done in the spirit of service,” says ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, “is equivalent to prayer.”

One has to work, anyway. Why not adjust one’s necessary actions to this great law of altruism, which is cosmic in its foundations and scope? Work done as duty may be disagreeable. Work done with love is joyful.

“For those we love, we venture many things,

The thought of them gives spirit flaming wings.

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For those we love, we labor hard and long,

To dream of them stirs in the heart a song.

For those we love, no task can be too great,

We forge ahead, defying adverse fate.

For those we love, we seek life’s highest goal,

And find contentment deep within the soul.”

ALTRUISM—-or in its more ardent aspect, love—is the creative and sustaining force of the universe. God created man not by accident but by the Will-to-Love. It is that same force of love expressed on the phenomenal plane which causes coherence in life-forms, the law of attraction, the affinities of chemistry and the affections of the human world.

To live outside this Law of Love is to be an outcast from the Kingdom. One who habitually practices love lives thereby in heaven. One who knows not how to give or attract love lives in purgatory. One who gives forth and attracts to himself the opposite of love, hatred, lives in hell.

Love is the atmosphere of paradise. When it reigns amidst earth-bound groups it makes these groups tiny replicas of heaven. We do not need to wait until death in order to taste the glories and joys of celestial life. And we cannot expect, if we have not learned the taste of heaven here, to gravitate later to the Heaven-over-There.

“Love is primarily not a subjective emotion, but an expansion and a deepening of life, through Life setting itself in the other, taking the other up into itself; and in this movement life itself becomes greater, more comprehensive and noble. Love is not a mere relation of given individuals, but a development and a growing in communion, an elevation and an animation of the original condition. And this movement of love has no limits; it has all infinity for its development; it extends beyond the relation to persons to the relation to things; for things also reveal their innermost being only to a disposition of love: again, the striving after truth in science and art cannot succeed without love and an animation that proceeds from it, without inwardly becoming one with the object. . . .

“This increasing spiritualization of human life never becomes a sure possession that calls for no toil; ever anew it demands our attention and activity; it has continually to be won anew as a whole. For the spiritualization of human life a longing rooted in the whole being is primarily necessary.”

The stage of altruism, or cosmic love, is a height that must be eventually achieved by all who would make spiritual progress. At present, human society is so constructed as to make the daily practise of altruism difficult.

But this will not always be the case. Collective humanity, like individual man, is called upon to reach these heights of altruism in its destined progress toward perfection. A cooperative world is in the making. Those who cling to the husks of selfishness will discover what empty treasures they possess. For nothing is [Page 324] certain in the way of human possessions or human security. Nothing is more certain in our planetary life today than that the predominantly selfish motives of humanity are hastening it toward a sure and inescapable destruction.

Just as certain is it that those who today are expressing ideality in their thoughts and deeds are building for a better world that is sure to come. They are architects of the future. No idealism is lost or wasted.

Altruism is the world’s greatest need today—on the part of statesmen, industrialists, financial leaders, educators, professional men of every type, and every humble citizen.

In spite of the negative and chaotic conditions of society today, that individual who boldly and courageously asserts the will-to-love in the midst of a world of fear and hate will create for himself and for those who love him a magic realm of serenity and peace.

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LIGHTHOUSE

EVERETT TABOR GAMAGE

All day it sleeps besides the sunlit sea

To waken when long shadows from the west

Call all that lives to slumber, then to be

A gleaming guide to home and harbor rest.

It waits, like God, for men who in the hour

Of light seek not a sign to mark their way,

But in life’s night time look to Him for power

To guide the feet that in the darkness stray.